Loss
by 0muffin0
Summary: WARNING: Contains spoilers from "The Miller's Daughter." "What-What...do I do now?" (Swan Queen?)


She couldn't be bothered with the weight of magic on her mind right now. It was too painful, too emotionally draining, and too tiring to try at a time like this.

So instead, she ignored the tears in her eyes, stared Snow right in the face, and uttered some kind of threat—One that she meant, but didn't remember.

And pulled her mother up off the floor and over her shoulders. The weight offset her in her boots, but ignoring the pain, no one bothered to stop her as she exited Gold's shop and got away from... them.

The minute she stepped outside and began walking, she tried hard not to let more tears fall. Tried hard not to crumple down on the ground and force her mother to hold her and pretend she could hear her whispers of a better tomorrow.

No, she would keep walking, sniffling up sobs and biting her lip until it bled in order to have some other feeling to focus on other than sadness and grief.

Because for one moment, someone _loved_ her. For one brief second, she thought that she could move on and forget everything bad that ever happened to her because for that moment, she wasn't alone.

The hole in the forest was still there, along with the shovel that they'd left on the ground. It's where they'd thought Rumpelstiltskin hid his beloved dagger, and once they realized it wasn't there, there was little point in making the place spotless again; they were, after all racing against time.

But it was a whole other race against time than the race they'd thought was going on.

Cora's body fit, if she was crumbled up in the fetal position and contorted slightly enough so that her right leg was a bit higher than her left. The sight of it all made Regina fall to her knees and let out a loud choking noise as the tears fell into her vision.

The shovel was heavy weight, but having something in her hands that she could grip felt better than having nothing, and the duty of giving her mother a proper burial weighed heavily on her thoughts. She would be the one to care.

She would be the only one to care, and she would make sure that her mother was safe in the ground.

Someone cared enough to grant her that.

Regina wished that she could do something more extravagant, but her allies were few and her resources even fewer, because why would anyone care that the Evil Queen's mother passed away—Especially if it was Snow White who did it.

Except she wasn't so saintly anymore; she had blood on her hands. This was Her Fault.

And then Regina threw herself on top of the ground and tried to say incomplete sentences to tell her mother just how much she was loved.

That this wasn't your fault.

That she'd make everything better and that Snow White would pay for what she's done to you.

And then there was too much agony for her to say anything other than, "Why couldn't she have killed me in your place?"

–

Home was another ordeal. Stumbling into the house, she didn't bother to lock it behind her. Previously, it would be because she was waiting for Henry to come home, but now... now it didn't matter.

Even if some lunatic who was thinking they could take revenge on her would walk in, she'd hardly care to notice. Besides, maybe going down that way would be easier than living like this.

She didn't know why she'd come back here; it wasn't like she wanted to be home right now. In fact, there wasn't anywhere she wanted to be less. But, she drug herself into the kitchen and sat down on a stool at the island. For a few moments, she left her life tick away, the sound of the clock being the only thing in her world.

She drug her eyes from a fixed point on the countertop to the sink where two plates and a pan sat, still dirty from the same morning.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered her mother commenting on the taste of bacon and how peculiar food in this world looked.

Immediately, Regina stood from her stool with silent tears streaming down her face before all but rushing from the room and into the study.

This was her safe haven—The place where she would be alone for hours of the day, doing the only thing that made her feel useful; being mayor.

Even in a fictitious town, there was a lot to be done. From taxes to town events to things as small as what to do with Leroy _now. _

There wasn't much work like that done anymore, but the space still held its good qualities. It was the quietest space in the house, and she'd rather liked how her seat had slowly gotten more and more comfortable as she used it, the cushions forming to where she always sat in it.

Expecting the room to calm her down and ease her mind, she walked forward to sit in her spot before stopping halfway, dead in her tracks.

"_I like what you've done with the place." _

She took a step back and glanced to the contents of her desk that she had forgotten she'd left there prior.

"_Mother!"_

"_I didn't like what that enchanted box was saying." _

The Queen let out a laugh that turned into a sob as she slowly sunk to the ground, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise even though there was no one there to hear.

For several minutes, she let herself cry again, her body stiff and sore against the cool marble of the floor. She wondered why she chose it now; it only served to be unwelcoming and cold.

Pulling herself up, Regina wiped her tears off on her sleeves and walked out of the room and out the front door, not caring where she went as long as it didn't carry reminders of everything she'd lost. It was too much in a short span of time, and if only she'd known this morning how little time they had left, she'd enjoy it instead of... Instead of going on a mission to find Rumplestiltskin's dagger.

If only she'd thought of restoring her mother's heart sooner; she'd still have her. She'd be the only one who'd love her. She'd be _here. _

Before knowing what she was doing, Regina had walked to Henry's old spot on the ocean line, where there had once been an old, rickety playground.

There was nothing left of it now, and nothing left of the kids that once played on it, but there were benches lining it, so she stepped in front of one and sat down on the far edge so she could watch the ocean.

And for a time, that was enough.

The ocean was distracting enough to take her mind off everything and recenter her emotions.

She dealt with the loss of Daniel, her true love. It may have not been conventional, but it was easy to place the blame on young Snow White, who ruined any chance she had at happiness. By blaming her and ignoring the acts of her mother or lack thereof of her father, it was easy to deal with pain.

She dealt with the loss of her father, the only one who stayed with her for his whole life, loving her in a way that no one else could. Even when she slipped into darkness, he did his best to be a good father and love her with all he had. But he wanted her to be happy, and her happiness was clouded by thoughts of revenge. Her happy ending would be around the corner, and if his like was forfeit for it, she would deal with the pain. She grieved, yes, but the thought of being happy was temping, and she would honor him as much as she could. His death was quick and she tried hard to make it as painless as possible.

She dealt with the loss of Henry, who she raised and tried to love as well as she could, but in the end he slipped through her fingers. In a way, she had only hoped that this would be temporary, and hadn't dealt with it at all; had only hoped that this would change if he saw that she wasn't the bad one here. She had done bad things in her life, but she wasn't evil like he had presumed. If there still was a chance at this, she was unaware of it.

But the loss of her mother, right after she'd seen the love in her eyes-

There were footsteps from behind her, from the direction she had come, but she didn't look back. If she didn't acknowledge them, maybe they would leave. But, the bench shifted, and someone sat next to her on it.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Regina snapped her attention to the voice, only to find Emma Swan looking at the ocean, instead of her. The Queen did the same, fixating back on the spot she'd been staring at for some time now.

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"...Yes."

"You know, when I was about five," Emma shifted so that she was leaning back lazily on the bench. "I was put in the worst foster home I think I'd ever been in. She was a single parent. Drunk all the time, with big, huge scars across her neck and arms. I don't know what they were from, but as a kid it was super scary... She was—One of those people who just want the money and not the responsibility of a kid in the system, you know?"

There was a pause, and Regina dared not to say anything at all, which seemed cue enough, because Emma just kept talking like she'd said something anyway. "I guess the point was, she didn't really take care of me, you know? She'd drink and neglect me, and then she'd bring these guys home, and—well, they weren't so nice either—s'where I got a scar on my back from: that house—And then one night, she woke up, took a bottle of pills and went to the hospital and never came out.'"

The story ended abruptly by a long stretch of silence, and after several agonizing minutes, Regina turned her head, "What was the point of that story?"

Without taking her eyes off the ocean, the blonde shrugged, "I don't know. I'm not so good at making people feel better."

More silence after that, with them both looking at the ocean like it held all of life's answers.

"Do you wanna be alone?" Emma questioned, finally turning her full attention to the broken woman next to her.

There was another stretch of silence, shorter this time, before Regina met green eyes. "No."

"Okay."

Without another word, Emma adjusted to be more comfortable on the bench, shifting slightly closer as she did so. There were no other words exchanged, but it didn't matter.

She didn't feel so alone anymore.


End file.
